


A Pure Part Of The Abyss

by MagicalTreeStump



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-10 23:06:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalTreeStump/pseuds/MagicalTreeStump
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete only exists in Patrick's dreams.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Pure Part Of The Abyss

**Author's Note:**

> So a couple of years ago for NaNo 2011 I tried writing a frerard fanfic that was a) really pretentious b) really boring and c) filled with frank and mikey hanging out with eachother in dream sequences.
> 
> This hasn't been beta'd at all and comes straight from my sleep deprived mind. (READ: this is shitty, i know.)

The first time Patrick dreams of him it’s on the same night that some guy in the local music scene died somewhere between a mess of car wrecks and prescription drugs.

In that first dream the guy didn’t speak. He was crying and holding onto Patrick for dear life, and at the end of the night he smiled at Patrick and let him go. There wasn’t even much to remember when Patrick woke up, so maybe the guy had spoken, but he felt like he would have remembered a voice somewhere in amongst the mess of tears and feathers and paper white spaces.

Patrick pushed it off and went on as normal. He kissed his mum goodbye, caught a lift from Joe to school and walked into his register class five minutes late, just like he always did.

 

~

The second time it happens the guy speaks, if only to say his name.

“Patrick,” the guy says. And then, “Patrick, Patrick, Patrick.”

It’s only then that Patrick can make out the wings that protrude out of the guy’s back. The feathers hanging off them are so white that Patrick isn’t surprised he missed them the first time. He is surprised when he hears himself speak though, and it’s definitely him, he can feel his breathing change, his jaw move and how heavy his tongue suddenly seems as he does so.

“Pete,” Patrick says, and then everything’s alright.

~

Somewhere along the way, in a mess of dreams that involve next to no movement or feeling or sound, Patrick stops speaking in real life. It’s a subtle change, one that only happens when his dreams become filled with conversation. Pete’s conversation, mostly, but he has a nice voice that makes Patrick feel safe, and his way with words is like something else entirely.

~

The place they’re in begins to take a form gradually. It has a twin bed with grey blue sheets, not unlike the deep blue ones in Patrick’s room, and a window that hangs in a space without walls, somehow breaking all the laws of physics to overlook a garden and a road.

Pete and Patrick are curled up on the bed, because there’s nowhere else for them to be except there, and Pete’s smiling and Patrick just wants to sleep—which is funny, because that’s what he’s doing.

“Patrick,” Pete says. “You know we’re meant to be together, right? Like, we’re two parts of something much bigger and it doesn’t make any sense at all, but this is just fate’s way of trying to make sense of what’s happened. We’re made for each other. We need each other.”

And all Patrick can bring himself to do is nod and curl up closer to Pete. He’s heard Pete’s words a thousand times before already, ever since Pete started to speak.

~

“You need to get some sleep,” his mother says over breakfast. “You’re looking like you’ve been up all night.”

Patrick can’t help but think it’s dumb, because sleep is literally all he’s been doing besides the bare minimum work for school.

When he gets in Joe’s car to get to school Patrick can hear Joe speaking, it’s obvious and loud, something about a show and the guy who had died and whether or not Patrick wanted to come along.

Patrick can hear it, but it’s all fogged over and hazy, like it’s not really there at all. Patrick can’t help but find himself nodding and accepting the invitation before he rests his head on the window, the cool glass setting his senses on fire.

~

“You should sing. At the show you’re going to, you should sing.” Pete says it out of nowhere. His feathers are whiter still, but with flecks of yellow and gold that makes them shine. The contrast between them and the room they’re in (because it’s a room now, finally) is almost blinding. Everything about the room is so grey and dulled down except for Pete, who shines bright like a beacon in a storm.

Patrick nods and agrees as he goes to pick up the guitar in the corner that feels so distantly familiar to him. He doesn’t ask Pete how he knows about the show. It doesn’t ever occur to him to do so.

~

And he sings like he’s never done before, with passion and anger and rage filling every word. He’s light headed but he’s so alive. He almost falls over so many times, and he stumbles over the chords and the strings, but his voice makes up for it.

He’s only playing covers of songs, but the crowd loves him, even if they’re not there for him.

~

Pete smiles, proud, and kisses Patrick with everything he has.

“I knew you’d do it,” he says when they break apart. “I always knew you’d find a way to sing for me.”

Patrick doesn’t question it; he just pulls Pete back in for another kiss and lets the light fade away.

~

When he gets back from school he immediately flops down onto the mattress. He has a history essay due in the next day, which he still hasn’t even started, and then there’s that physics test he needs to revise for, and he needs to finish writing the chapter notes for The Catcher in the Rye for English.

 

He has no excuses left to keep putting off the work anymore and he knows that his grades have been quickly slipping. But he’s also so tired and his throat is dry and sore despite him not having spoken in weeks. He also really wants to see Pete, so he sleeps.

~

Pete’s feathers are like the sunrise now, all pale pinks, orange and gold that fal into the blue-grey of the room.

~

Pete smiles, says, “I didn’t know. If I had known I’d never have— It wasn’t meant to be like this.”

Patrick smiles back at Pete and pulls him closer on the bed. Pete’s still speaking, but he’s also warm and solid and so very real compared to Patrick.

Patrick wants to go to sleep; he can feel the darkness closing in on him, and even though he’s already dreaming he lets it wash over him once again. This darkness is colder, newer, much more welcoming than the last.

Patrick thinks he might be able to hear Pete crying somewhere above all the white noise, but he pushes it aside. They’ll be able to see each other again, maybe not soon, but when Pete begins to dream they’ll find a way.


End file.
